


Adventures in Immortality

by Namesake



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Ashildr and Clara in the TARDIS, Eventual Relationships, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6088138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namesake/pseuds/Namesake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara and Ashildr set off on a series of incredible adventures in their giant America Diner flying through space and time.</p><p>A series of stories dedicated to Clara and Ashildr's adventures through time and space, plus some fluffy goodness aboard the TARDIS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start of Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series of short stories, connected at the core but not necessarily in time order. If you have any ideas for what you want to see in this series, don't be afraid to send a prompt my way!

 

 

 

The Lady Me sat, one leg crossed over the other, on a wooden chair that she and Clara had dragged into the main console room.

“Bit minimalist isn’t it?” Clara had said with a frown.

“I could probably fix that,” Me had said in return – which was precisely what she was doing at that very moment. Well, that and _other_ things.

The TARDIS manual was a lot larger than Me had anticipated. Although the book didn’t look that thick on the outside, it seemed more pages would materialise the further she read into it. _Bigger on the inside._ Me rolled her eyes. Typical Time Lord trickery.

Clara was fiddling with the console a few feet away, a mischievous glint in her eyes. After her announcement about their little ‘detour’ she’d been practically glued to the TARDIS’ ‘minimalistic’ controls. The console was smaller than the one Me had seen in the Doctor’s ship, but all the same buttons and triggers seemed to be in play. If she could just figure out the right sequence on that main panel to Clara’s right…

“I think I’ve got something,” Me announced, standing from her rickety chair. Honestly, she would have expected a TARDIS to be better equipped. Still, there was probably something about that in the manual. Just as soon as she found the right page.

Clara eagerly met Me’s eyes. “Really?” she asked, her shoulders sagging in relief. “Because I’ve literally just been pressing buttons and so far all I’ve done is make a double espresso.” She lifted the small cup into her hands. “Want any? I’m not a big fan of caffeine, makes me all jittery.”

Me didn’t want to point out the fact that Clara was already acting rather _jittery,_ so instead she went ahead towards the TARDIS console. Glancing at the manual for a few brief pointers, Me found the right sequence. She pressed a red and green button on the console before her, walked three paces to her left and flipped two switches, then returned to her original spot and pulled a lever hidden at the base of the console. Something whirred, another something sparked and for a brief period, the room was bathed in darkness. Then with an alarming _snap_ the room was flooded with light once again, reflecting off the white walls in a way that should have been rather taxing to the eyes but for some reason seemed to have little effect on either Me or Clara.

Clara blinked. “What did you do?”

Me couldn’t help the small, intelligent grin that quirked her lips. “You’ll see.”

Not seconds after she’d said it, the centre of the console started beeping. A small, previously camouflaged section of the control panel cracked open and inside that crack an impressive metal holster appeared. And inside that holster…

“I don’t believe it,” Clara whispered, reaching out for the holster as if on instinct.

There, standing before the two of them, was a brand new sonic screwdriver.

“Hah!” Clara exclaimed, weighing it in her hands. “It’s orange! That’s new.” She turned back to Me, the biggest, brightest grin plastered to her face. “You absolute screaming genius! How did you do that?”

Me flushed slightly, gesturing towards the book in her hands. “It’s all in here.” She cleared her throat. “The instructions are really rather straightforward. Didn’t the Doctor have a manual?”

Clara scrunched her nose. “He did… but he chucked it in a supernova.”

Me deadpanned, “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Clara rolled her eyes. “The Doctor never did like rules. But _we_ Ashildr, _we_ are not him!” She moved closer, poking her head over Me’s shoulder. “So what else does it say in that handy dandy manual?”

The Lady Me opened her mouth to protest, after all she _had_ been going by _Me_ for so long now. The innocent little Viking girl named Ashildr had died the second that she’d been fitted with the Mire chip that now ran her systems; fixing her on repeat, keeping her young. Keeping her from death itself. She’d lived so long… so many lives. There was nothing left of that little girl, there couldn’t be… just her journals. Pages and pages of memory that the person she was now couldn’t even connect to.

And yet, Me felt a certain sense of belonging when Clara had used her old name. A warmth clouded her heart, making it hard for her to find a fault in the name at all. Me shook her head. “It’s…”

Clara perked up, eyes bright and so _alive,_ it was unbelievable to think for even a second that she didn’t have a pulse. Me swallowed. “It’s… nothing.” She shook her head. “The manual could tell us exactly how to run this ship. I’ve managed to read through a large portion of it already, enough to be able to get it moving properly again at least.”

Clara took a step back, folding her arms in mock astonishment. “What? Not a fan of my driving skills are we?”

“Well,” Me said with a smile, “you did get lessons from the _Doctor._ ”

Clara made a face. “Okay. Fair point.” She shrugged, walking back towards the console. Me watched her go, marvelling at the fluidity at which she moved.

This Clara Oswald should have been different, she thought privately to herself. After all, _this_ Clara Oswald was dead – ripped from her time stream at the second of her demise, before she’d screamed, before she’d hit the ground. But she was dead all the same. Frozen without a pulse. Forever. And yet, she was _Clara._ The same Clara that Ashildr had written about in her journals so many years ago; the same Clara that Me had written of later when they’d met in Trap Street, how she’d fondly read those words over and over. How painful it had been to recall her demise, even when the memories had faded, crumbling like a piece of sodden paper in a bottomless whirlpool. But Clara was as vibrant and alive as ever, her eyes shining with a new found purpose, a skip in her stride as she planted herself at the console yet again, immediately fiddling with the closest button she could find. Restless and eternal. Just like _Me._

“C’mon, are you going to stand there all day?” Clara said jokingly, reaching behind her head to untie her pony tail. She still wore the little blue waitress outfit from her time speaking to the Doctor and Me knew that she wasn’t over it – would probably never be over it – but she was doing a good job masking that pain. Her brown locks fell smartly at her shoulders as Clara straightened them out with her hands, loose strands knotting through her fingers. Such a small gesture and yet Me couldn’t help but watch her with all the fascination that she had watched the Universe – captivated - for countless millennia.

She shook herself out of her stupor long enough to join Clara at the console. Clara had turned her attention back to the sonic screwdriver in her hand. It truly was a work of art. With half her attention focused on getting the TARDIS back into orbit, Me used the other half to watch Clara as she fiddled with the brilliant and sleek mechanics of the sonic in her hand. It was thinner than the Doctor’s had been – Me had done her research – and was fitted more specifically for a woman’s hand. There was an elegance in its design, with intricate silver swirls around the edges that doubled as buttons and alternative settings. The bulb at the end was a vibrant orange, just as Clara had enthused about, and as Me watched, Clara held the device out in front of her, pressing the button just enough for a musical whir to fill the air. Behind her, Me could hear the chair they’d dragged in fall to the floor with a dull crack.

“Hey,” Clara beamed, “there’s a wood setting!”

* * *

 

Clara sat at the TARDIS door, her feet dangling out at the endless space below. Ashildr or _Me_ as she preferred to be called had extended the air shield, allowing the most impressive view to be seen from – quite literally – their front door.  From her position, Clara had the perfect view of the solar system Me had flown them to. They weren’t sure of the precise date yet – the monitor was quite tricky – but they had been able to decipher which planets were inhabited down below.

There were twelve planets in this particular solar system, but only three of them were inhabited by intelligent life forms. The others, well, the others the TARDIS hadn’t been able to read. Or maybe it had, Clara was really having trouble getting it to do anything she wanted. She knew that the Doctor’s TARDIS had had a mind of its own, practically driving him towards disasters that he would inevitably end up fixing, but this TARDIS… this TARDIS was freshly grown, it had never been flown before, never seen the stars. Everything this TARDIS experienced was for the first time. Clara had a sudden urge to comfort the ship, _her_ TARDIS. Absently, she stroked the linoleum floor at her side. “There, there,” she murmured, “you’ll get the hang of it.”

Clara wasn’t sure, but she could have sworn she heard the TARDIS hum in response.

“It’s no use,” Me said suddenly, disturbing the peace.

Clara craned her head to the side, catching Me standing in the entrance to the console room. There was about twenty feet of American Diner separating the two of them.

“I can’t get the information on the Chameleon Circuit to stay put in the manual, it keeps changing pages at random.” Me let out a frustrated groan as she dropped the large book on the Diner’s front counter. “It’s like it _wants_ to stay like a ginormous diner.”

Clara grinned. “Well, what’s wrong with that?”

Me cocked a brow, gesturing to the enormity of the room surrounding them. “Well, it’s a little hard to explain don’t you think? Landing on a distant planet as a… _diner._ ”

“What?” Clara chuckled. “Harder than explaining a police box from the nineteen fifties?”

Me sighed. “You’ve got a point.”

“I always do.” Clara stood from her spot, running her hands across the nearest dining table. “It’s actually pretty cool, I mean, this room will _never_ run out of stock. If we don’t like the alien cuisine somewhere, we could just eat in. In our own personal diner.” Clara patted the table for good measure. “I think keeping it like this is a great idea.” She felt the table vibrate appreciatively beneath her palm.

“Are you talking to me or the ship?” Me asked with a smirk.

“Blimey, nothing gets past you, does it?”

Me shrugged. “I have years of experience.”

“Huh.” Clara frowned. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

It was odd to think it, but Ashildr, _Me,_ was millions of years old, perhaps older. She’d found her way to the end of the Universe, after all. Granted, she probably didn’t remember much of her past, but to think about all that time she’d lived… watching empires rise and fall, learning new skills, starting new lives. Would it be the same for her, Clara wondered? How long was she willing to keep this up, this _detour_ from her death? How much time did she really have?

Suppressing a shudder, Clara shook her head. “Actually, that reminds me, with all you’ve been doing in the console room I was wondering how far you were getting with that monitor.”

Me perked up. “Further than before. I got some extra readings on the other planets… mostly uninhabited stuff but that yellow and green one looks exciting, see it there?” She strode forwards, brushing past Clara as she pointed out the open door. Clara peered past her pointing finger, following the direction until her eyes met the planet that was practically stood just beneath their feet. It was large, definitely larger than Earth, but aside from the colouring it didn’t look that much different from it either. There were no rings on the planet or extra suns in this solar system, and although Clara was too close to see the moons for that specific planet, the surrounding planets generally had more than one. Well, she was definitely looking forward to witnessing a sight like _that_ come nightfall.

“So that’s where we’re landing?” Clara asked.

Me smiled. “If you want.”

“No way, if _you_ want. This is your adventure as much as mine,” Clara said, winding her arm around Me. At first, she felt stiff in her arms like she’d never been touched before, let alone hugged, then after a second, she relaxed. “All of time and space,” Clara said quietly, “is this where you want to start?”

Me smiled, her eyes bright with an excitement Clara wasn’t sure she’d seen since her Viking days. Back when she’d gone by Ashildr.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Clara said, giving Me’s shoulder a tight squeeze before letting go. She was halfway back to the console room before she spun back to meet the immortal. “Oh, right, yeah, that other question about the monitor. Do you think you could get it to track something for me?”


	2. Pancakes In SPACE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara and Ashildr introduce pancakes to an entire alien race, plus other stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could have alternatively been called 'Two Sugars' - you'll understand why at the end.

 

 

  **PANCAKES IN _SPACE_**

 

 

Clara stared adamantly at the TARDIS console’s monitor, her eyes squinting in and out of focus as she tried to make sense of the readings. To give the TARDIS credit they probably _did_ make sense, it was just hard to tell when the room kept spinning dizzyingly before her eyes. Okay, maybe the room wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was her… _and_ the several pints of unfamiliar alien booze she’d downed last night.

_Had_ it been last night? Eh, time machine, hard to tell. Relatively speaking, it was probably last night.

Several hours _before_ last night, Ashildr had successfully landed the TARDIS on the first alien planet she would ever visit in a time machine. Clara had been thrilled - and much more so when she had seen just how truly stunning the planet was from the ground up.

The sky had been an ashen orange when they’d landed, which had complimented the lavender colour of the planet’s trees astoundingly well. It hadn’t taken them long to come across intelligent life – mostly because the life in question had been throwing one Hell of a party.

As Clara remembered it, the planet’s townsfolk had been celebrating the start of what equated to their version of springtime. There had been stalls upon stalls open up all around the town, each one boasting a different kind of alien food or beverage. Ashildr had fallen in love with a brown sponge cake-like finger-food, devouring nearly three plates of them before putting that particular stall out of business.

Clara had found her luck at a stall run by a purple skinned man with four arms and six nostrils. He’d handed her pints of bubbling, oddly coloured liquid at what he claimed to be ‘half-price,’ - not that money was an obstacle with the universal bank card Clara had found in one of the TARDIS’ many spare rooms. Clara couldn’t remember when exactly she’d coined that what she was drinking was alcoholic… maybe on the third pint? All she remembered was teaching an entire town’s worth of alien life-forms the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s _Blank Space,_ a handful of ABBA songs and the entirety of Queen’s _Bohemian Rhapsody._ The town didn’t have a karaoke machine, but by the time Clara had been done with them, they might as well have.

At some point during the evening, Clara had introduced Ashildr to the wonders of alien alcohol and together they’d convinced a handful of aliens into following them back to their bigger-on-the-inside-although-almost-completely-inconspicuous American Diner. At some point after that, Clara had decided to make pancakes, which was apparently an _alien_ concept to these _aliens_.

Ashildr had helped stir the batter and when Clara had been too drunk to hold the saucepan, they’d decided to swap jobs.

It was only after several hours of arduous labour and yet another sing-along that Clara and Ashildr had introduced pancakes to an entire alien race and, subsequently, passed out.

Clara frowned; the monitor wasn’t co-operating and to make matters worse, there was definitely dried batter in her hair.

“Come on,” she groaned, poking the screen with her index finger. “I’m hung-over, help me out here?”

“What are you doing?”

Clara jumped, causing her head to throb. She winced, glancing around the monitor to face a mussy-haired Ashildr, or, uh, _Me._ God, would she ever get used to that? Clara winced again. Not likely.

“Just talking to the monitor,” Clara said with a shrug. “Y’know, completely normal stuff.”

Me managed a smile, though Clara could tell she was feeling the effects of the post-alcohol binge just as much as she was. “I see.”

Clara gestured towards her. “So, that Mire chip doesn’t do hangovers, huh?”

Me took a moment to think. “Not that I… remember,” she said, which instantly made Clara feel bad. With a memory that only went back a few decades at a time – and only the written word to tell her any differently – it must have been difficult to keep track of her life, or for that matter, her best royal hangovers. Me continued with a somewhat serious frown: “I think if I accidentally poisoned myself, it would fix me.”

Clara nodded absently. “Good to know.” She glanced over Me’s shoulder. “Are our guests still asleep?”

Me smiled. “Elephant-face is still passed out on table two. The purple guy got up early this morning and left with the raw batter bowl.”

“And the rest?”

Me turned her head to face the doorway. “Mostly gone. I think there might be a few others, but I didn’t get a good look. All I cared about was water.”

_Water._ Clara thought back suddenly. She’d woken up propped up against the oven, but she didn’t remember grabbing any water. In fact, she didn’t remember _feeling_ thirsty at all. Surely she would have. That was like, the first thing she ever needed after waking up from a heavy night of partying. That and a good cup of tea.

“The kettle’s on,” Me said as an afterthought, surprising Clara. “How do you take your tea?” Me looked a little apologetic. “I don’t think I ever thought to write that in my journals.”

“I don’t think you ever made me tea anyway,” Clara said with a half-smile, her previous thoughts still ticked away at the back of her brain, but she ignored them. “There was always too much end-of-the-world stuff to deal with, or you know, _dying._ ” Clara poked the monitor once more for good measure. “I’m feeling strong today, two sugars.”

Me nodded. “Noted.” She frowned. “What _are_ you doing?” Her expression turned mischievous. “It must be pretty important to keep you from snuggling with that wooden spoon.”

“Hey!” Clara snapped. “Don’t judge! Besides, I _saw_ you with that oven mitt!” She shook her head. “I just… I wanted to see if that tracking thing you did worked.”

“Of course it worked,” Me said with a triumphant grin. “I followed the instructions point-for-point.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “I know, I know, I just…”

Me softened, seeming to understand exactly where Clara was going. “It’s just you want to be sure,” she said softly.

Clara closed her eyes, half because of the headache, but more so because she wasn’t sure she could look Me in the eyes without tearing up. “It just kind of gets me you know,” she said, “he’s out there carrying on where he left off… except he doesn’t remember that he left off anything at all. I just worry that with no one to keep an eye on him… that he won’t-”

“Be a hero?” Me asked, her eyes sparking curiously. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“Really?” Clara asked exhaustedly. “Because he’s like a cosmic three year old, I swear to God. On his own, how the Hell is he supposed to solve anything besides yelling at it until it stops being a problem?”

Me’s lips quirked. She took a step forward, paused, doubting herself, before taking another. “Maybe he will,” she said. “But maybe… maybe he won’t be alone for long.”

Clara opened her eyes, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “How can you-”

“Clara Oswald,” Me said, and perhaps it was something about the way she addressed her, but Clara felt her stomach somersault. “Trust me when I say immortals don’t like being alone.”

Clara hadn’t noticed Me get closer, and by the bemused look on her face, she didn’t think Me had either, but suddenly they were stood facing each other, mere inches apart.

Clara could see the bruises under Me's eyes that the Mire Chip hadn't fixed, could see the cracks in her lips where they stood, parted, allowing her breath easy access to Clara's neck. Her nose piercing was missing and, as Clara fondly remembered, it was probably lodged in the trunk of elephant face back in the Diner. She looked so tired, easily as dead as Clara actually  _was,_ but she was standing there - looking at Clara like she was the only thing that mattered.

Me looked away first.

“He’ll find someone else,” she said quietly. “And that person will help him.”

“They won’t be _like_ him though, will they?” Clara asked, she had to. “They never are.”

“Immortals don’t travel well together,” Me said, as though reciting it from a book, but Clara knew better than that. She shook her head and smiled, returning Clara’s gaze with all the vibrancy she could muster. “That was, I think, the one thing the Doctor always had wrong.”

“I got too much like him,” Clara blurted, her mouth falling open the minute she’d spoken the words out loud. She could feel her body shaking, but she couldn't stop herself. Me didn’t waver, didn't look offended at all, so she continued: “I proved him right. I got too much like him and I got dangerous… I-I lost my connection to humanity and I died.”

“And now you’re not,” Me said.

“Dead?” Clara choked out a laugh. “But I am.”

“But you’re not,” Me said, lifting her hand towards Clara’s face. Clara hadn’t realised she’d been crying until she felt Me’s fingers - as soft as a feather's touch - gently brush the tears away. “Clara Oswald,” that feeling again, deep in her stomach, “I’ve never met anyone more alive.”

They stayed like that for a moment, Me cupping Clara’s face, Clara letting her, until the monitor beeped, catching the both of them off guard.

Me’s hands came to a slammed halt at her sides as Clara quickly turned her attention to the monitor. The screen had changed from the standard blue to a map. Not a very detailed one, but it would do, because there was a dot on that map, and that dot was labelled ‘ _Doctor.’_

He was galaxies away, flying around in his little blue box. But he was alive. He was okay. Just as Clara had known, but still needed to see.

He was out there, without her, and he was doing just fine.

Clara sighed heavily. “Thank you,” she said, glancing to where Me had been standing. She wasn’t there anymore, instead she was already across the room, exiting through the door that led back into the Diner.

“So, two sugars?” Me called.

Clara smiled, ducking her head. “Yeah. Two sugars.”

 


End file.
